Work Text:
Alva watched the photographer pour the tea into a prepared teacup. The whole thing had been quite a show, Joseph pulling out yet another elaborate tea that surprised Alva once again. He wonders how he finds these things, but every time he’s curious to see how it works. Joseph likes to make tea in the most extravagant way possible. And with the showman that Joseph was, Alva found it amusing how he’d performed for something so simple as tea, all for no one but Alva.
Although, there’s benefits to being the only attendee to this serene private show. Alva noticed how Joseph faltered at times, something he knew would never have happened had there been other audience members. At one point, he was pouring small ice cubes into one of the cups and a few had fallen out of the cup. Alva watched Joseph’s face twitch before he cursed under breath and continued. Alva didn’t judge, he never did. He just smiled and let it play out.
But now, the show was over. The gentleman in question poured himself a glass of wine and sat down across from the hermit. That’s another thing Alva found endearing, that this whole thing was just for him entirely, he never made tea for himself. The whole occasion was for him and only him, it made Alva feel appreciated by the other. And that was Joseph’s goal.
Alva leaned over and wrapped his slender fingers around the handle of the teacup, it would be this moment where he’d usually mutter a thank you before taking a sip. And then listened to whatever frivolous rant Joseph had to yap about with his expression gesticulations. But this time, his mind allowed him to slip out his own thoughts instead.
“I adore your imperfections, Joseph.” He blurted, he realized what he had said but opted to pretend he hadn’t said anything at all and continued to sip the tea.
Joseph, on the other hand, was mildly taken aback by the statement, stopping mid sip and placing the glass onto the coffee table, then raising an eyebrow “I beg your finest pardon?” He started.
“I noticed your mishaps, I don’t mind them, quite the contrary.” Alva averted his gaze, gluing his eyes to a patch of flowers nearby, seeing as they were say in a garden, it was the only he could look at. “I actually prefer when you mess up a little.”
Joseph frowned, but nothing could hide the faint redness that started to coat his cheeks and the tips of his ears, “I’m going to need you to elaborate further, Lorenz.”
Alva’s eyes returned to the other’s, “You’re comfortable with me, yes?”
Joseph nods, “Mhm…”
The hermit stares down into the liquid in his cup, “So even though you’re putting on a show for me, you still allow yourself to be relaxed and let your persona crack. I find it endearing.” He looks up at the other during the last part.
“You—“ Joseph blinks, the flush in his cheeks growing brighter, “You just—! I was nervous!” He stammers, another thing he was unlikely to do with other people’s eyes on him. But not when he was alone with Alva, he was free to be himself comfortably here in his presence.
“I make you nervous…?” Alva tilts his head, a faint smile resting on his lips.
“Yes you—!” Joseph deflates into the side of the chair and covers his face with one of his hands, letting out a long heavy sigh, “Christ, Lorenz, when did you become such a flirt?”
“That wasn’t my intention, but I didn’t know we were still on a last name basis, Joseph.” Alva fakes a hurt expression, but that meant his face didn’t change much at all.
“Stop it, just drink the tea, Alva.”
“Much better, thank you.”
Joseph moves his hand slightly to reveal one of his eyes, which was squinting at Alva, “Aren’t you usually quiet?”
“Do you not enjoy hearing me speak?”
Silence. Loud silence.
Alva hums, “I see…” more tea sipping ensues.
Joseph swirls the wine in his glass, letting the quietness linger for a moment. He basks in the sound of the wind and the way it moved Alva’s hair just slightly, before speaking again, “I enjoy everything about you, Alva.” He mutters, placing his wine glass down and straightening himself up. “Thank you for keeping me company all this time.”
The words he spoke were genuine, without his polite tone he carried usually. The gentlemanly facade wasn’t there whatsoever. This was a true sentiment coming from Joseph Desaulineirs. Just a simple statement from his heart.
The smile that only faintly resided on Alva’s face grew, “It’s been my pleasure.”